Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
by Loonymoon
Summary: Why is Snape in the Dursleys' kitchen? Why is there a spirit roaming Grimauld place? And what will happen when nightmares become real? RR
1. Default Chapter

A/N: This is a remake of an old story of mine, Harry Potter and the Sword of Light. It stunk, but I think I've improved my writing skills since then. I will continue depending on how many reviews I receive, so review! Give me whatever advice you want. I'm totally open to flames.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, its characters, and the awesome title of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince are all J.K. Rowling's.

A single blade in the dark…

                        A hissing voice asked him, "Do you wish to end it, now?"

                                    And a single boy bowed his head

                                                "Yes."

                                    The blade rested on his chest.

The boy who lived was left with only one question, "Is this real or just a dream?"

            A flash of smoke and Voldemort was gone.

            The boy was falling into a darkened sky…

                        For a moment it was beautiful… but he continued to fall…

                                    He asked the sky,

                                                "God, don't forsake me!"

                                    and the moment before he hit the ground,

He asked the abyss, "Is this real or just a dream?"

            He landed in front of a black curtain…

                        It lead to the portal of death… someone came out of it…

                                    A man with black hair and a laugh like a bark

                                                Embraced him.

                                    It was so wonderful.

He almost forgot to ask if it was real…

A ferocious knocking pounded the bedroom door. Harry's eyes burst open. He found himself in his old room, yet again…

            "Breakfast!" his aunt's shrill voice rang throughout his skull. He sat up in bed and told himself. "It was just a dream."

            He buried his face in his hands. Too many mornings had begun like this. For one shinning moment he had almost believed Sirius was back, but that was just his mind playing tricks on him… and that made it hurt all the worse…

            His scar burned slightly. "Damn it," he swore into his hands which were now covered in salty tears. He had to stop doing this, otherwise one of these days he might not wake up.

            "Potter! Get DOWN here, NOW!" His uncle's voice echoed through the floorboards. Harry cursed again, and threw on his clothes, wiping his tears on the back of his hand. There was no time for mourning now. Never enough time for anything, really…

"POTTER!"

"I'm coming!" he yelled. He doubted whether the Dursleys even knew about Sirius. Well, he wasn't telling.

The Dursleys now kept a habit of keeping an eye on him wherever he went. He was under house arrest. He was never aloud to go outside without an adult. Never aloud to be in a room by himself except his bedroom, or the bathroom. Never aloud a moment to himself. Never. Harry was sure it was his Uncle's doing. He didn't want to see any more magic, which was fair game…

…But this was killing him. He was sure he would burst eventually. So many tears for Sirius were welling up inside, it felt like there was a lake where there should have been lungs. It only left Harry to question if he should try to leave altogether. Sirius did.

Aunt Petunia wasn't much better. She pelted him questions whenever Vernon wasn't home, or had his back turned. "Now, Harry, he's not going to attack soon, is he?";   
 "Harry, you would protect us from an attack, right?"; "Harry, you know how to fight them, don't you?".  Finally he had snapped on day, and said as loud as he could so that Dudley _actually_ looked up from the tele, "DON'T ASK QUESTIONS!"

He was so trapped in this memory that he was down in the kitchen before he knew it. "Get the mail, boy," Uncle Vernon said gruffly.

Harry obeyed. He was starting to feel like a family pet.

A hefty pile of letters laid on the rug. Harry sorted through them as fast as he could. Bill… Bill... Letter from Marge… Bill… Letter from Albus Dumbledore… He stopped abruptly. It was addressed to him, he stuffed it in his back pocket quickly. Another bill… and the last letter was addressed to Petunia Dursley, in a script that Harry recognized from nowhere. He looked on the back; a Hogwarts crest was neatly placed in the back. He felt his heart drumming. He turned it over to see that it was not from Dumbledore, or Mcgonagol, but from someone he never heard of…

Perseus Evans

Dungeons, room 131.

Hogwarts

England

            "Potter, what are you doing… checking for bombs?" He had made this statement before, only now it wasn't a joke.

            Harry's head was spinning. Who was Perseus Evans? He had never met anyone by that name before. Perhaps Snape knew him, he was in the dungeons, right? But why would he be writing Aunt Petunia?

            He walked quickly to the kitchen handing the bills to Vernon, and the single letter to Petunia. "It was addressed to you," he said simply.

            He watched as Petunia looked down at the envelope in horror. She glared at Harry and then at the paper again. Her cheeks flushed in rage, "Is this a joke?" She hissed at him. Harry shook his head vigorously. She ripped the envelope and started reading. Her bony chin dropped slowly as she read. When she was done she closed her eyes. "Harry, go sit down in the living room."

            "Who is…"

            "Just do it!"

            Harry knew better than to argue. The armchair was taken by Uncle Vernon, and the couch was taken by Dudley's enormous arse. So he just sat on the floor, glumly and pretended to read a book, while shoving Dumbledore's letter between the pages. The familiar, loopy scroll danced across the page.

_Dear Mr. H. Potter, _

_            I have come to a conclusion about your stay at the Dursley's. It is no longer fitting for you to stay there any longer._

            Harry's eyes widened so much that they looked bigger than his glasses. He was leaving the Dursley's, is he serious?????

            _I told you recently that a spell would only work if you could call the place where your mother's blood resides "home". Due to the occlumency lessons with Professor Snape, it has been recognized that you haven't been able to call their residence "home" for quite some time. Thus, there is no point in having you suffer any further abuse from these ordinary people. But, know that I am not in any case forcing you out of that family. If you have any reason to stay, any reason at all, you are welcome to do so. I just see that staying with the Dursley's may be uncomfortable, undesirable, and useless at the present time. Therefore you are welcome to stay at headquarters_.

            He felt as if he would jump for joy in the middle of the living room. He was leaving the Dursley's! Was this possible, after so long?

            _But please note, Harry, that I'm not going to have you completely unguarded, it would be irresponsible and irrational of me to abandon all the magical barriers that went along with this spell. _

His ecstatic smile fell.

            _I'm afraid I must reveal one more secret that I have been hiding. I promise this is the last secret I'll keep from you, except for your O.W.L scores (which I am not telling). But your going to have to wait, I'm sorry. Professor Snape is going to be the one to tell you, because he is more adequate on the subject. _

_            Professor Snape will be coming to number four, Privet Drive within the hour that you finish this letter. Please, if you wish, be prepared to leave._

_                                                            Sincerely,        _

_                                                                   Albus Dumbledore_

For a few moments Harry just stared at the open book, stunned. Then, in one swift movement, he stood up in the middle of the living room. "Can I go to my room?"

            "No," answered Vernon.

            "Can I go to my room?" He asked Petunia.

            "No," she said, Perseus Evans' letter still in her fist.

            "Can I go to my room?"

            "No," said Dudley, grinning evilly at Harry.

            Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, "_May_ I go to my room, _please_?"

            "Sit down, stupid boy, you're blocking the tele!"

            Harry sat. _Good dog_ he thought, miserably. _I should be packing right now, I want to get out of here…_

            He pulled out a game of scrabble and started form words on the rug. Normally, he wouldn't put up with this, but lately he just didn't care. He didn't really care about anything, really. He formed the word, "home" and the word "dog" across it. Plus, he needed to think. Why was Snape the one who was getting him? Why not Remus, or Tonks, or Mr. Weasley? They can't _all_ be busy. They would come and get him in a heartbeat. Why did it have to be Snape? He was the only one in the order that he hated with the passion of a thousand burning suns. Dumbledore knows that, he knows that Harry still didn't forgive him for what happened. He spelled the words "Severus Snape" with wooden letters, and began to encircle his name with words like "stupid" and "arse" and "prick". But slowly, as he was spelling the word "evil", he noticed something. He pushed the insults away in one swipe. His eyes grew unnaturally wide again. He put the E in front, then the V, and then the A and N and S from his last name. His heart was beating fast as he worked. The lone letter P, was placed in front, then he put the S next to the R and the extra E next to the U… Numb realization dawned on him. In the place where Severus Snape had been, was, in chipped wooden letter the name…

PERSEUS EVANS

            He began to ask the question in his head, "Is this real or just a dream?" when suddenly a knocking came from the door. Severus Snape was here.

A/N: a P.S, mugglenet.com kind of came of with the anagram first. I thought it was so cool I had to put it in my story. So don't say I'm a genius for making it up, cause I didn't. Grins sheepishly Anyways, please review. 


	2. A Secret Unveiled

Harry held his breath for about five minutes it seemed… Aunt petunia made her way slowly to the door, eyes on it as if it was the grim keeper about to take her away.

Harry was on the living room floor, so he had no view of what was going on, but after the slow creek of the door opening a sort of explosion erupted in the hall. "It's _you!_" Aunt Petunia screeched. Snape's low voice grumbled something Harry didn't quite catch… Why did Snape, the death eater, know the most non-magical person he knew, Aunt Petunia?

He looked down at the wooden letters of **Perseus Evans** on the grubby carpet, and he came to an abrupt conclusion:

He didn't know what the hell was going on.

He stood up from his spot; Dudley still drooling over the tele. Uncle Vernon, who by the sound of his booming voice had disappeared into the hall as well. Harry's breath grew quick in his chest, the voices of the three adults drumming in his ears. There was nothing to do but go to his room and pack. He grew unexpectedly apprehensive about leaving with his professor. He had not looked him in the eye since he had deducted points from Gryffindor, he was not keen on seeing him again. Even if Dumbledore had complete faith in him, he disliked his potions master like no one else. Not even Aunt Petunia. Ok… _maybe_ Aunt Petunia…

He shook his head and rubbed his temples, trying to make the prickling of his scar subside. _It's not like I'm going to live with him,_ he thought,_ he's just taking me from one place to another..._

Mind made up, he eased himself around the corner, trying to figure out a way to get up the stairs unnoticed.

"Get out of here, why would you come _now?_"

"We've been taking care of him for fifteen years!"

His aunt and uncle were yelling into the opened door, the dark outline of Severus Snape was leaned against the frame. He was not responding. He just asked a simple question, "Where is he?"

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO COME INSIDE OUR HOUSE AND DEMAND TO TAKE OUR NEPHEW AWAY FROM US!" Aunt Petunia's bird-like shriek echoed.

Snape appeared to be loosing what little patience he had. He hissed in his low, menacing voice, "You don't want him anyway, now just hand him over or..."

"Or what? You are in no position to threaten me!" Vernon Dursley puffed out his chest, in a surprisingly impressive way (especially since he had been threatened by a number of wizards only a week ago). But his shocking bravery was nothing to what he said next, _"Snivelus!"_

Snape's nose twitched, his eyes looked vindictive, "Am I?" He whipped out his wand and pointed it at Vernon's nose.

"Now… now… you d-don't need that… just… just come inside…" Vernon backed away suddenly. Snape stepped onto the carpet, looking so strangely in the white hallway that it made Harry go cross-eyed. Petunia was staring at his uncle pleadingly, eyeing her green carpet under Snape's boot in a look that read only one thing, "Get him out of here!"

It was then that Snape noticed a certain someone standing poised against the corner of the hall. He fell completely silent, like a hunter who had been accidentally spotted by its prey. His aunt and uncle turned to see him too. Harry was looking into the faces of the three people he liked the least.

He didn't blink. The whole room was silent except for the tele and Dudley's ignorant laughter. "What's going on?" he asked.

All three of them were reluctant to answer, the married couple looked at each other, and Snape seemed to be astonished with something on his shoe. Harry left his safer position behind the door and started to walk toward the three of them when he felt a bony hand on his shoulder.

(A/N: oooo! Cliffy! Cliffy! Ok no, I'm not that mean)

"Hello Headmaster…"Snape smirked. By only the look on the Dursleys' faces he could easily guess who was behind him.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry turned around to see the shining face of his headmaster. "I thought you weren't coming!"

"Changed my mind," he hummed, smiling. He looked like he had aged ten years since the last time they talked.

Vernon's face was green. He all of the sudden started dancing around the house, shutting blinds and locking doors like a madman. Petunia just glared, eye twitching at the man who was her nephew's mentor. "You're not welcomed here," she murmured. Dumbledore, as usual, showed no evidence of offence.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Petunia, but I'm afraid you left me no choice."

"What's the meaning of it?"

He bent his head toward her, "I'm sorry?"

"What's the meaning of the letters? Of… of _him_," she pointed to Snape, "being here…"

"I thought we should all get together and have a chat," Dumbledore smiled and waved towards the kitchen, as if it were the most natural thing to do.

"I don't _want_ to have a _chat!_" She seemed very close to tears now, "And I especially don't want _him_ here!"

"Petunia, dear," he said softly, taking her hand in both his, as if she was his granddaughter, "He's your brother…"

Harry felt as though someone had hit him in the face with a frying pan. He stared from Petunia to Snape to Dumbledore, his eyes wide as saucers, jaw dropped.

"**WHAT?!**"

The room was silent.

"WHAT?"

Petunia was seething, Snape looked uncharacteristically afraid. Dumbledore let go of Petunia's hand and grinned sheepishly, "Well, the cat's out of the bag!"

"You… aunt… my mom… _brother_?" He could barely form the words.

"Half-brother." Snape said quietly.

"H-h-how?"

"Harry, calm down. Petunia, do you mind if I make a spot of tea?" Dumbledore said.

"Just make it strong," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table and rubbing her temples. Snape sat alongside her and refused to meet anyone's eyes.

Harry stood gaping at the scene before his eyes. Snape, in his black robes claiming to be his half-uncle, Petunia, looking in the need of some brandy, Vernon, still tinkering with the door, and Dumbledore in his bright purple robes bewitching the teapot to boil water.

"Trying to catch flies?" Snape said finally. He closed his mouth and sat down. Dumbledore passed each one their own cup of tea.

"I suppose we have some explaining to do, Harry…"

"Yeah!" He said, eyes still unnaturally wide.

Snape snorted and leaned his chair on its back legs, "What's there to explain? Their dad cheated with my mum, and that's that." He folded his arms grumpily. Harry was reminded of the little boy whose parents fought in the pensive.

"I think there's a bit more to it than that, Severus," Dumbledore announced.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but his aunt cut him off. "We didn't even know… For twenty years… we didn't know…"

"When did you find out?"

"My father's journal," Snape said casually, "when I was twenty I found out he had a second family."

"He was never around much," Petunia explained.

"He was around you more than me!" Snape hissed.

"Did my mom know?"

"Yes," Snape smirked, "It was my wedding present. Potter didn't like it much…"

"How does Uncle Vernon know you?"

"He lived in the neighborhood where I grew up."

"…And the name, Perseus Evans?"

"That was the name my father gave me, my mother changed it when I was born. Her last name was Snape. It's an anagram…"

"I noticed." Harry's skull seemed to be full of water that sloshed around whenever he thought. He drank some tea, the room was silent again. He looked to Dumbledore. "How come no one told me this?"

It was Petunia who answered, "Like I wanted to make that public? That I'm related to… to…"

"But I'm not public! I should know!"

"What difference does it make," Snape's voice sounded hollow, "I wouldn't have taken you. All the death eaters were after me. Voldemort was after me. I didn't want to take care of a child and you probably wouldn't want live with me anyway."

Harry stared into his teacup, biting his lip. All those years he wished that some unknown relative would take him away. Now his unknown relative was sitting in front of him and he wasn't sure if he wanted to go…

"You know now, anyway," Dumbledore said, pouring himself more tea with the floating pot, "I told you your mother's blood could protect you, it still can… it's your choice, Harry."

He stared from Petunia to Snape. Before, he would have taken any chance to get away from the Dursleys… but _Snape?_ He remembered the jar of beetles that was thrown at him when he came back through the pensive... He remembered his furious eyes, how he gripped his arm until there was a bruise. But he hated the Dursleys too, the abuse, the neglect…

"Can I have some time to think about it?"

Snape coughed into his tea.

Dumbledore surveyed the scene, and when no one spoke, he took to becoming the mediator, "How's this, Harry. You spend two weeks with Severus and two weeks with your aunt and uncle. After a month, you can decide? Hmm?"

Harry just nodded. His mouth was too dry for words. Petunia was staring out the window, refusing to look at any of them. All was silent. Harry just assumed that it was a general consensus that all agreed.

"Let's go, then," Snape stood up.

It was then that Dudley suddenly waddled into the kitchen. His eyes went wide, "What's going on?"


	3. Moony's Peril

Harry entered number twelve, Grimmauld Place as a cat would enter a garbage can. He leaned his trunk against the wall, pausing to look apprehensively into his late godfather's house. He could practically smell Sirius' scent that lingered in the air. Everything was silent for a few moments.

"Could you please, _not stand in the way of the door!_" Snape hissed vehemently.

Harry scuttled out of the way and up the stairs to the room that he had stayed in the previous summer. He threw his trunk under his bed and lifted Hedwig out of her cage. "I need you to give a message to Ron and Hermione," he said to the bird, "Er… don't peck them this time…"

He scribbled a short message on two bits of parchment, "I need you to meet me at headquarters, we have a lot to talk about. –Harry"

The snowy owl nipped his hand affectionately and flew out of the window. Harry was left in his room alone. A cold feeling overtook him, he could not bare being in the same place for to long. That would get him thinking…

He ran down the stairs into the kitchen where he found his Potion's master smoking a fag. Harry stared plainly, "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't."

Harry closed his mouth sullenly. Snape hissed and a trail of smoke blew out of his mouth and nostrils in a way that made him look like some sort of dragon. Harry folded his arms in frustration; "I would appreciate it if you didn't smoke that in here." Snape just raised his eyebrows, and smiled as if he found it amusing, "So you're the boss now?"

"No, I would just be grateful if you would not smoke in my house."

Snape made a cough that sounded more like a gulp, "What?"

"Well this is _my_ house, isn't it? I inherited it."

He closed his eyes and stuffed the butt into the ashtray. "Don't make rude assumptions, Potter. You're not the owner, first of all, because you're not of age, second of all, because your godfather wouldn't allow it. It went to someone else."

"Who?"

Snape stood up, "Why, so you can see to it that he kick the bucket?" He smirked, "Although I doubt that you need to do anything, he looks like he could snuff it any day now…" And he strolled out of the kitchen, leaving the stink of cigarettes in his wake.

_Who could he mean? _Harry thought to himself. His first thought was Dumbledore, that would make sense since it was headquarters, but then again Harry doubted whether Snape would say something that mean about him. He jostled his brain, and found that cold feeling rise in his chest as he remember it was that very place that Sirius had almost had his hand cut off, then laughed about it. He stood up quickly and ran out of the room.

He found himself walking from room to room, trying to find one that did not hold a memory of Sirius. But in each one he found something. He came to the room where a fire was blazing. Soon he realized that it was the same room where he had confronted Sirius and Remus about Snape. The cold feeling in Harry's heart suddenly increased to a painful measure. It was like the hot, stuffy air he inhaled was suddenly a hundred degrees lower. Sweat trickled down his temple, while at the same time he shivered with wintry fervor. Perhaps he was coming down with something?

"Sirius," a small whisper fluttered on the waves of heat and punctured Harry's heart. He let out a gasp of surprise, as he recognized the outline of a man in the old armchair. The strong but withered hand that grasped a forgotten book let it fall to the floor with an unromantic thud. "Ssssiri…" Harry found the man muttering in his sleep. His chapped lips mouthed soundless words.

"Professor Lupin?"

The man slumped in his seat, apparently asleep. "Leave me 'lone…"

Harry was taken aback, at first, but Remus continued, "Leave me 'lone, Sirius, can't you see I'm reading?"

He stepped in front of the fire, and pushed his arm, "Professor, wake up…"

"No! I don't wannu, just, go make yoursef supper, Albe there ina minute…"

If it had been in any other situation, he would have laughed. But the cold in his chest was turning into freezing, he shook his professor more violently. "No, Sirius, I said no, don't look at me like that." Harry shook him, almost to the point of knocking him out off the chair. "Stop, Sirius… STOP!"

His eyes wrenched open; they gleamed golden in the firelight. His jaw hung loose, he stared from the fire to Harry and began to realize where he was. "Harry… I'm sorry, must've dozed off again… I just… when did you get here?"

"Just now."

"Oh… good to see you," he sighed, trying to act normal again. He picked himself up onto the chair properly. "I was just dreaming about…"

"Sirius?"

"Yes… he was here… it was like, a replay of a memory I had…" He shivered, apparently the internal cold was affecting him too. "I'm sorry, you must think I'm crazy, I know I sometimes talk in my sleep…" he suddenly looked afraid, "Did I saying anything… anything… well… anything that upset you?"

"Why would you upset me?"

"I mean did I say anything…odd?"

"Well, you told him to make supper…"

"Oh, never mind," he said, looking relieved and upset at the same time. Silence fell, and Harry's ears pricked with the cackling of the fire. Remus looked as though he had not slept in days. Great, gray skin hung under his eyes, and some of his hair, previously gray, had turned white. The lines on his face looked as if the had been sketched on him with a marker. He held his head in a tragic way, like an old, battered dog; the pupils of his eyes were dead of light. He had not taken Sirius' death lightly, as Harry first assumed. Wasn't this man the same one who had come to grips with his godfather's death the moment he fell through the veil? And yet, he was having dreams about his friend, as if wanting to go back in time.

Even if Harry hated to admit it Snape was right. Poor Professor Lupin looked like he could fall over and die right in front of him.

"Professor Lupin?"

"Remus, Harry…"

"Alright, Remus? Are you the one that Siri… that my godfather gave the house to?"

He gave a hollow smile, "Yes, I am."

"S-so, am I going to live with you?" He looked at him, expectantly, some sad cheerfulness passed over the werewolf's face.

"If you want to… I mean… I know Snape is not the one _I_ would want to live with…"

He looked at him dryly, "Have you ever met the Dursleys?"

He laughed with no happiness, "No I can't say that I have, although I've met Petunia, I can only imagine how bad it is."

"Yeah, it's bad. At least I'm pretty sure Snape won't lock me in a cupboard."

Remus' eyes widened, "A cupboard? Dear Merlin!"

Suddenly, a load voice could be heard in the hallway, "Bloody hell! It's bloody hot in here! Why the hell are you brewing a fire? It's the middle of JUNE! Crazy lunatic…" he made to pull of a black over-tunic.

"Severus, watch your mouth, Harry's in here, he doesn't…"

"Oh, well why doesn't he get a WATER BUCKET, to get the FIRE OUT!"

Harry dashed back with the water bucket.

"Do you have to?" Remus asked, "It's kind of cold, isn't it?"

"ARE YOU CR…" he paused muttering to himself, "1…2…3…Remus, I think you might need medical attention." And with that he dumped the water onto the fire.

Remus bit his lip. Harry spoke up, "Doesn't it feel cold in here, to you?"

After some pause, he concluded, "You're both insane." He stalked out of the room.

"We can't both be insane!" Harry snuffed indignantly.

"I think it's just because he's used to his cold dungeons, and here it seems hot to him, perhaps," Remus explained. He paused, "Why didn't he just put it out with his wand?"

"He likes seeing me suffer," Harry concluded.

"Oh you poor lad, well, if Snape means to bully you, or hurt you in any way, come to me, we'll have Dumbledore have a talk with him. Or I could just hex him to pieces, either way…"

"Thanks, Remus, thanks a lot," he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, and began out of the room, "Oh, and can Ron and Hermione come over?"

Before Remus could finish the word "certainly" someone's hand-me-down shoes, attached to a freckly pair of legs had landed in the fireplace.


	4. Ron's Plight

A/N: Before I continue I must explain, dear reader, the reasoning behind my fan fiction. Some writers are out there writing their own version of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince only to mimic J.K Rowling and her style. They want to write something that, if given with a hardback and illustrations, could be mistakenly recognized as the real thing. I love JKR and her writing. That is exactly why I'm not copying her style, or following the hints of the plot from her website. I'm not even writing it to make it remotely close to what it's going to be like, because I know she'll outdo me. I don't care, though. I _want _her to outdo me.

I'm not the sort of person who when reading the next book will be upset if this doesn't happen or that doesn't happen. I love Harry Potter. And I'm simply writing my own version to pass the time and excitement of when the next book is coming out. I've been doing this since a week after the fourth book came out. Although my fandom may wax and wane, I know when the books are handed out at midnight, some random date far from now, I'll be there, waiting in a long line of people to get a sight of the next book.

Rowling and I are different people. Thus we are different writers. She has gone through more troubles than I. So she puts Harry through more troubles than I would. I would use my characters in different ways, or change the plot to fit my beliefs. For instance, I would not have killed Sirius. But I would also not have had such a powerful meanings or weatherproof morals.

She has come up with a world so vivid and powerful and characters that every person can relate to. The only people who criticize the books are the ones who haven't read them, or have a hatred of the entire fantasy genre in general. You can go to fan websites that are in Japanese, French and German. Major movie corporations were clawing to get the rights, and when WB did, it spent millions on the movie. She's brought millions of American children away from the television set and back to their books. And although my English teacher will fight with me about this, she is one of, if not the most known and well-read writers of English literature in all of history.

For those reasons, I respect J.K. Rowling. I don't pretend to be a better writer, or even a writer that is just as good. I just look up to her from the masses of fans, envying her talent, greedily desiring her books' immense popularity, and remaining in awe of her determination.

I write fan fiction only to humor myself, and stretch my writing skills. Not to impress anyone, or make it look like the real thing. It would be spiteful if I tried. And I'm sorry if that doesn't entertain you.

Thank you for your attention.

…Now back to the show! Dadada!!!!

Chapter Four: Ron's Plight 

"…and so then he took me here…"

Ron and Hermione sat Indian style on his bed munching on Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, staring at him in wonder. "That's so weird," Ron's eyes glittered in a strange, blue way, "You're his nephew? I still don't get it…"

"It's simple really, Harry's grandfather was a cheat," Hermione said bluntly.

"No offense, mate, but you look nothing like him."

"I know," Harry paced the dark room, "It's so ridiculous, it sounds so ridiculous… but at the same time it makes sense… he's hated me not only because my dad tormented him, but that I'm the last person from the family he was rejected from… but still he's protected me, from Quirell, from Voldemort… like I'm his… his…"

"Family," Hermione offered.

"Yes! And, it's weird, when he taught Occlumency, he would always take out his thoughts and put them in the pensive…"

"Wait… did you just say he took out his thoughts?" Ron mused.

"It was like he's been hiding the fact that we're related for years… He's just like Aunt Petunia…"

"Harry," Hermione cut him short, "What are you going to do?"

"Huh?"

"Who are you going to live with?" Ron clarified.

He fell silent. Four eyes looked at him expectantly. "I dunno… I'll stay here I guess… that way I can see you guys whenever I want!"

"No, Harry," Hermione stopped him, "We won't have you staying with someone that hates you just so you can see us…. right, Ron?"

"Er," his ears turned pink, "I guess… I reckon… it would be cool for us to hang out whenever we want but… but…"

"But what?"

"…er… I don't remember… Yeah that's awesome!"

"Ronald!"

"Wha?"

"What if Snape abuses him, or something… you'll peer pressure him into staying just because it's cool for you to hang out? What kind of friend are you?"

"A good one!"

"Hermione, you don't understand, the Dursleys hate me more than Snape hates me… I think…" Harry stated.

"But still, don't think about us when you make your decision. It's up to you, not whichever one is closer to your friends, am I right?"

Ron sighed, downheartedly, "Your always right."

They were all silent for a few moments, until Harry spoke, "Neither side is a very good family, you know. At least this way I'll get to see Dumbledore and Remus and you guys…"

"I know, Harry, I'm just saying that you shouldn't make your decision now."

"Well, I've made a decision." Ron said abruptly.

"What's that?"

"You should come and live with me!" He grinned. "I know my mom and dad would have you, and it's only for the summer… it's just like a really, really long slumber party. And Fred and George would visit and bring us sweets, and we could bother Ginny and play quidich every day and…"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because…" he searched to find an answer that didn't have to do with the prophecy, "Dumbledore won't let me…"

"Why not?"  
Harry was silent.

"What, is his plan just to keep you miserable or something? Because it's working! It worked last year and it's working this year. It's not fair! Why won't he let you be happy? It's not right! And now I'm yelling at you and its not your fault! I'm sorry, but that's what you did to us last year! It's like his master plan is to rip us apart! And now you're sad about… about his death, and that's not your fault either. You may think it is but its not. So will you stop being so damned _noble_ and just be _happy_ for once?"

Ron breathed heavily for a few minutes.

"I can't."

His mouth fell open, aghast.

A tear fell down Harry's cheek, "I'm sorry Ron, I can't tell you why, but I just can't. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"What the hell are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry that I can't go. It's not because of Dumbledore. It's because everyone I love falls to pieces. Everyone I love dies. Everything I touch disappears. I don't know when I turned into bloody Charley Brown, and you might think that I'm making this up for attention or something… but I'm _scared,_ all right? I'm scared that he'll come after me and he'll hurt you and your family. I don't what that to happen, no matter what! And if that means I have to stay with someone that hates me, then I'll do it!" More tears slid down his cheeks, and out of shame he turned away, rubbing them out of his eyes.

Hermione, who had remained in silence for quite some time, let out a melodramatic "Oh, Harry!" and hugged him till his ribs were numb.

"What if I said I'd risk it?" Ron said finally.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"I hate you, you know."

"I hate you too."

And they embraced, as brothers do.

Hermione just watched in awe, "You guys are like walking, talking oxymorons."

"We're not morons!" Ron yelled.

"And we're not oxy either!"

They laughed slightly, and continued the rest of the conversation talking about light things like muggle jellybeans, mangos and Monty Python.


	5. Severus' Soliloquy

**Please have all readers note that there is much profanity use in this chapter. **

(These types of chapters make me glad I chose pg-13, so be warned…)

A/N: the next book is coming out July 16 and I WILL BE IN COSTUME!

SQUEE!

This chapter is really angst-y, but don't worry, I'm not mentally ill. This is just how I imagined Severus' mentality.

Chapter Five: Severus' Soliloquy 

_It's so cold_ he thought to himself as his bare feet touch the cool wooden floor. He could smell the stench of cigarettes again. It was two o'clock in the morning after Ron had left. Harry creaked down the steps cautiously, sensing the movement in the other room.

He wished to call out to Snape. He wanted to know if he was there… but he stood pondering over the black railing wondering what he should say. He certainly couldn't call him "Severus", since he didn't even call him "Harry" at all. He couldn't call him "Snape" because he considered it rude. He couldn't call him "Professor" since they weren't at Hogwarts. And he just wouldn't call him "sir" because he didn't have that much respect for him. So he settled for a simple, "Hey!"

Snape looked up from the ashtray in the dark, staring at him with a scolding expression. "Why are you roaming the halls now, Potter, it's…"

"What are you going to do? Take fifty points from Gryfindor? I'm in my own bloody house!"

Since the only light was from the cigarette's tip, he could only see a ghost of a smirk on Snape's face. He asked, this time, softer, "What are you doing up?"

Harry continued his journey down the cold stairwell before whispering nonchalantly, "I couldn't sleep, how about you?"

"I never sleep," he stated.

"How about some hot chocolate?"

"You remind me so much of the Headmaster, it's sickening…"

"Does that mean yes?"

"Sure."

He got out the mugs and the coco packets, noticed that they didn't have any marshmallows, and disappointedly reach for the fluff, all without noticing that Snape was licking the tip of a Vodka bottle, which was empty. He boiled the water with his back turned. It wasn't until Harry handed him the steaming cup that he noticed he was crying.

"P-professor? Are you alright?" asked Harry, spilling chocolate on the floor.

He rubbed his eyes, and grit his teeth, "It's alright, Harry. I'm bloody, fucking fantastic…"

It was then he caught sight of the empty bottle.

"Snape? You didn't just… I mean… you're drunk?"

"Yes, Harry. Your grandfather was a drunk, and now I'm a drunk. Ten fucking points to Gryfindor."

"Wait… I…."

"Yes, Harry, don't you feel bad now? That I didn't have a family? That your father beat me up? That your mother hated me? That I have no friends and no place to go? Makes you feel sad now doesn't it? Well, fuck you, because I don't want your pity, and I don't want your help and I don't want your hot chocolate."

The room was silent.

"Ok, maybe I want your hot chocolate..."he said before guzzling it down. Harry studied him. On the outside, Snape didn't appear to be drunk. He wasn't stuttering at all, his eyes weren't bloodshot, yet he seemed to be an emotional wreck.

"I'm sorry I'm so fucked up. It's not really your fault." He swallowed another gulp, "It wasn't Sirius' fault either."

Harry's eyes grew wide, "What?"

"He picked on me, you know. He really almost killed me. All I wanted was a little revenge. Is that so wrong? I never wanted to kill him. He wanted so much to get out of this house. I was a perfect plan. He would get his adventure, and I would get my revenge. It would have worked out perfectly, you see." He set his mug down, "But no. Severus Snape's life never works out like he wants. His bad luck always fucks things up. SIRIUS BLACK HAD TO GO AND FUCKING DIE!"

With that, he threw the empty Vodka bottle at the wall, smashing it to oblivion. Harry crouched to the corner of the room, curled away from the glass, shaking. "WHY, Harry? Why does nothing ever work out like it should? HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE! But, he did and it's my fault, and I'm sorry… I'm sorry I treat you like dirt. I really just thought you were a brat. I didn't know you were just a good kid, who had gone through even more troubles than I have. I'm fucking sorry." Tears were streaming down Harry's face… he remained in a lump on the kitchen floor. Snape stumbled over to him. "It's alright if you hate me, I don't blame you at all… I hate me too. The whole school can hate me. We can have an I- hate-Severus-fan club and everyone will join…"

"I don't hate you…" Harry whispered from the confines of his pajama's.

"You're a sweet kid, but you don't know me that well. I have some skeletons in my closet. I've seen things, Harry, that you would never dream, and done things for the dark lord's sake. I've killed people, Harry, and not with a wand… I'm a monster… I'm a freak… I have no power but to kill. I was going to kill myself tonight. I've been thinking about it for along time," His voice was deadly calm. He didn't even smell of liquor anymore. "Then, you came down here and offered me hot chocolate… why would you offer comfort to a monster? I don't want compassion, I just want to die!"

Harry's voice answered hoarsely, "No…live…"

"Shut up! I don't have to listen to you!" Snape brandished his wand, pointing it at Harry's throat.

A swift rush of a rag-like cloak, and a voice ringing, "EXPELIAMUS!(sp?)" left Snape without words.

"That's enough!" Remus' voice echoed harshly, "C'mon Harry…"

"Fucking werewolf!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" He shouted, taking Harry into his arms, and running with him up the stairs. He whispered strictly into his ear, "You're leaving tomorrow to your aunt and uncle's, no excuses."


	6. Hell's Bell's

"I don't want to leave."

Remus glared at him furiously, angry that he would trade abuse for love, "No. That's it. I would let you stay here, if Snape left… but Dumbledore won't have it. There's nothing I can do, you have to go back to your aunt and uncles. I won't have you abused."

"You think that's the worst thing that ever happened to me, don't you? Having a vodka glass thrown at me? You think I'm totally traumatized, don't you?"

"Do you have all of your things?" He asked, rummaging through Harry's trunk.

"You think you're protecting me but you're _not_!"

"Harry, I will not have this go on in my house!"

"You'd rather send me back _there_? Please don't send me back! You can lock me in one room and Snape in another! Please! I don't want to go back!" Harry tried not to beg, that would make him look childish, and hence, more unreliable. But Lupin was so set in his decision that it was hard not to, "Snape may hate me, but he respects me and hates me! The Dursleys… they just ignore me… they make feel inhuman… I'd rather be respected and hated than not noticed at all!"

"It's safer for you, not to be noticed at all."

He burst, and before consideration he bellowed, "But, that's not _life_, Remus, that's like throwing me in a cell, locking it and never letting me see another person for a decade!"

Remus' face was shocked. _Finally, _Harry thought, _I'm getting somewhere._ But it also had an effect that Harry did not intend. Remus turned from him; his shoulders shook roughly in a sob. Like a Grecian statue suddenly breaking after centuries of holding still, his emotion bubbled to the surface. "R-remus?" he heard his stifled breath, and harsh whimpers. How could he have forgotten? Sirius! Something inside of Harry shuddered with guilt along with the deep pitiful gasps of his past professor. Shocked, though he was, that this grown man in front of him was crying, he apologized, "I'm sorry, Remus, I shouldn't have said that… It's just… how I feel, ok?" Remus sniffed. Harry was reminded briefly of when Cho Chang cried, not knowing what to do, but only now it was a great bear of a man. He settled for a bear hug, patting him on the shoulder roughly.

Finally, he saw Remus' face. Great sad hound eyes stared back at him pathetically, his voice attempting to sound normal, "It's ok, Harry… just go to your room. Snape's not going to be here for the next few hours… we'll decide then."

"Can I stay here then?"

"We'll decide later."

Snape arrived sober as a nun. His arms swayed in the summer breeze; unruly, greasy strands of hair in his face. Droplets of sweat from the heat of the sun dwelled on his pale temple. Regardless of the weather, he was covered head to toe in a black work suit. His beetle black eyes poked from underneath an old salesman had, stolen from the attic of his father's home. He found Remus at the table, ready to strike, eyes focused furiously on the peaceful cup of tea in front of him. Harry stared at both of them from the corner of the stairs. Remus seemed so patient of a man… now it was likely that headlines would read, SEVERUS SNAPE KILLED BY CRAZY WEREWOLF. Snape didn't seem overjoyed either.

"Lupin, miss Helgate is going to visit the headquarters in the ides of July. Hopefully, it will be prepared by then," He marched through the kitchen, removing his hat and revealing the sweaty hair underneath, "and Dumbledore will be here tonight. He said you wanted to talk to him…"

"Yes, I did. I wanted to tell him what an abusing beast you are to your nephew."

He brushed his jacket off as well, one ivory tooth poking out as he grinned, "Dear me…" Snape said in mocking shock, "I believe that I have been nothing but composed with your golden boy, Lupin."

"Does composed include pointing your wand at his throat?"

"Oh, that…" he said, looking annoyed, "well you know of my condition, Lupin…"

"Yes, I do."

"And you know if times get… desperate… I sometimes drink as a barrier? And my nerves get particularly… touchy… especially at night?"

The werewolf's voice was being to loose it's composure, "Yes, but you have controlled everything at school!"

"Well, yes… when I'm by myself in my room, and no one…"

"Your CONDITION gives you no reason to harm Harry!"

"Oh, _please_ Lupin, you and I both know that I wasn't going to hurt him."

Harry could tell, even from behind, that Remus' face was contorted in anger, "Do I? DO I?"

'Twas then that Dumbledore strolled in, "Hell's Bells!" He said softly, as to not wake Mrs. Black, "What's going on?"

"Headmaster, tell the werewolf that I'm not an abusing beast," said Snape.

His blue eyes were between shocked and amused, "What are you on about?"

Harry sunk further down the end of the stairs, where Dumbledore said kindly, as if he hadn't just witnessed an argument, "Hello Harry! Are you well?"

"Fine thanks."

"No, he's NOT fine!" Remus jumped out of his chair, "Headmaster, Snape got drunk last night and threw a vodka glass at him, then threatened him with his wand!"

"_That_ is…" Snape began.

"I won't let him live here if he is going to use that behavior around Harry… _condition _or no…"

"It was an accident, Headmaster… Helgate was suppose to…"

"I DON'T CARE! YOU DO NOT have the right to treat Harry that way!"

"I was stupid, I know… but I never would have hurt him! You _know _that, don't you?"

"No, I don't. And I don't want you drinking with Harry around ever again!"

"I was _talking_ to the Headmaster…"

Dumbledore blinked once or twice, apparently overall shocked that the two men were fighting like cats and dogs. His understanding of children was commendable, but his understanding of adult's arguments was apparently limited. "If you don't mind," he said finally, "I wish to talk to Harry alone."

Finally, they broke apart, Remus in one room and Severus in the other. Dumbledore sat, purple cloak reclining at the kitchen table where he invited Harry to take a seat across from him. Dumbledore's gaze, after a year of not looking at him at all, was fixed on Harry, and after a long time of being caught in those fantastical blue eyes, he spoke, "Harry, what's going on?"

Much to the headmaster's surprise he laughed. "Oh… I dunno… Voldemort is planning his attack, the United States is attacking Iraq, and muggles are in fear of biological and nuclear terrorism."

Dumbledore suppressed a grin, "No, Harry, what's going on with you?"

"Well," he scratched the back of his neck; "I've been having nightmares lately…"

"Anything that concerns Voldemort?"

"No, just ordinary nightmares I guess."

He stroked the top of his pearly white beard, "I think you scared him off. Voldemort. The more powerful he gets the more fearful he is of you."

Harry smirked and made a grunting noise. "That's good to know, I guess," he said sarcastically.

"So are they recurring nightmares?" Dumbledore asked as if he were a psychologist with another patient.

"No. It's really hard to explain… some things are the same, but others change…"

"I don't pretend to know everything there is to know about psychology and dreamwork… but usually they mean something has been bothering you. My advice is to keep a dream book. Before you go to sleep, write out the day's activities. When you wake up, record what you dream. I find it quite useful in figuring out my consciousness."

"Er… that sounds easy enough."

"Anything else?"

"… well… I… err… am living with my half-uncle…"

He speculated him over his halfmoon glasses, "How's that serving you?"

"I…" but Harry stopped. He suddenly speculated Dumbledore, "Can we get out a couch and a clipboard while we're at it?"

"If you think it'll help."

"Headmaster…"

"Harry, I'm just trying to help you. You don't need to build emotional barriers. You don't need to suspect anything. I'm trying to determine if it is in you're best interest to stay with your uncle."

"Half-uncle. And I hate his guts."

"So you want to leave?"

"No, see that's the thing… I _used to_ hate his guts… but after last night, and him telling me that he wanted to kill himself… I actually feel guilty."

"Guilty?"

"For hating him back."

"Guilty."

"In the wrong."

"Guilty."

"… yes."

"Guilty. Why would you feel guilty about someone else's problems?"

Harry bit his lip, almost embarrassed, "Because I sometimes feel the same way."

The headmaster looked as though he were about to pop an artery, "Like you're going to kill yourself?"

"No! Just, like… everyone hating me for no reason…"

He breathed again, softly, nerves returning to normal, "So you're trying to fix it by not hating him?"

Harry's scratched the back of his head, "No… yes… I guess… isn't that the right thing to do?"

"You shouldn't feel guilty, though… guilty is a sign that he's abusing you."

"But… he… didn't… you think I'm abused?"

"I think that you'd sacrifice your own well-being for someone else's sake."

"…I don't understand… I thought that I'm supposed to do that… that humanity is supposed to…"

"There is no reason that you should suffer."

"Why… yes there is… but that's not the point… the point is he drank and I like him better when he's drunk than when he's sober!"

An indecisive but solid face stared back at the outburst, not knowing whether to laugh or to be very, very concerned. He ended up chuckling, politely as ever, but then turning serious again, "He threw a vodka bottle at you?"

Harry bit the nail on his ring finger, as he remembered the happenings of the previous night…

"_He picked on me, you know. He really almost killed me. All I wanted was a little revenge. Is that so wrong? I never wanted to kill him. He wanted so much to get out of this house. I was a perfect plan. He would get his adventure, and I would get my revenge. It would have worked out perfectly, you see… But no. Severus Snape's life never works out like he wants. His bad luck always fucks things up. SIRIUS BLACK HAD TO GO AND FUCKING DIE!"_

"Snape is guilty."

"What?"

"He's sorry about Sirius… I don't hate him anymore," his soft voice fluttered but he was certain that Dumbledore had seen what he had just remembered. "I feel like there's no excuse to hating him anymore. It really wasn't his fault. His bad conscious is making him do these things… and I don't blame him at all."

"But do you blame, Petunia?"

"… I just don't understand her."

"You will," the old wizard said, "at least a little."

"Professor, do I have to go back?"

He contemplated, the tips of his fingers prayer-like in front of his nose, "Harry this is about what _you_ want to do. Not anybody else. If you are in a situation that you are not comfortable in, you can go. Or, if you like, you can stay. I'm not going to listen to anyone else. If you want to go back to your aunt and uncle's, which is just as safe and reasonable as this one, I'll see it done."

"I'd like to stay, then," he said, feeling more at ease, "at least for the next two weeks."

"Alright, then."

A/N: This story is getting a bit more personal than I expected it to… Harry's troubles are somewhat similar to my parents' divorce… I didn't really mean for that to happen…

I don't really like this chapter. It's more of a "reaction" piece. Harry is getting more heroically challenged… "aren't I supposed to …like… save people?"

Anyways I write more if I get reviews. I use them as fuel. Even the bad ones.

And I wrote this one cause of Acerbus Sidus. Your review gave me motivation again.

Like it, Hate it…

So click the darn go button!


	7. The Raven's Song

Remus was obviously furious with him, and stayed furious all night. Dumbledore had talked to Snape during dinner, while the other two sat in silence, opposite each other. They only words Remus uttered were "Good night." And he stalked away to the master bedroom.

Harry retired too to his bedroom (though he thought the effort for a good night's rest would be futile) ready to welcome the soft pillow and downy cushions of his mattress. His head was silent of thought or memory, making the motions of covering himself with the blankets nonchalantly, but his heart was burning with questions.

_"I think that you'd sacrifice your own well-being for someone else's sake."_

Wasn't that what he was supposed to do?

His flesh seemed to mold itself into the bed like clay slowly casting itself into a mask. His face felt calm and warm as his eyelashes fluttered.

And finally…

_He was running as fast as time could let him_

_Not retreating out of fear_

_Not to get away_

_To find something… someone…_

_Deep stonewalls surrounded him. Hallways that never ended. Until a curtain…no a veil_

_Stood tall in his way_

_A cape of a giant madman,_

_He fought through the blackness_

_Through the layers and layers of darkness_

_He is on the other side._

_A four-poster bed stands, large and red, where a woman rests her raven head_

_She is dress and black and looks so sad_

_Yet her eyes betray her, she is mad. Insane from the void where she is locked._

_She announces his arrival "KaaAAK!"_

_She does not look like a raven, she is one too…_

_Don't ask questions "Who are you?" The tired boy expects no reply_

_But the bed is where his attention lie,_

_For he is so sleepy and the bed so soft, _

_"Shan't I sleep there, aloft?"_

_"KAaa" the little raven girl sighs, she moves from the bed aside_

_from little Harry's gentle quest,_

_just for some emotional rest. 'Tis little help she may give_

_But the name on the head post is "THE BOY WHO LIVED"_

_He lays there, as he thinks he ought, but sleep the boy's heart much fought, _

_He tossed and turned and turned and tossed._

_Until the bloody raven coughed._

_"I know ravens don't sing, but…" He was please to hear her voice ring. With the sadness and madness of centuries past. But the temporary sleep did not last._

_"There's something under my back," he said, as he laid his tired head._

_A wolf in human's clothes suggests, it is a pea! And it is not less…_

_It is a green and sickly gem that spurned hatred and malice at men._

_A portrait of a Snape said, "It is the dark lord, you must swallow it to sleep…"_

_And by itself it goes down the boy's throat,_

_He chokes_

Harry woke, coughing and sputtering. His throat was still burning. After retrieving his glasses and some water, he looked at the clock. 5:27, daylight was just peaking in between his blinds. Hastily, he reached for a pen and notebook, to write the dream down.

A/N: I'm so weird. - There _is_ a purpose behind this chapter. But you won't get it yet.


	8. Snape's interpretation

It was six-o-clock on a Saturday and Severus Snape was awake. Harry didn't know why… but after writing down his strange dream and attempting to go back to sleep he finally gave up and crept down the stairs. He found the potions master sitting over coffee, just staring at the wall. Drowsy from the lack of sleep and persistence of the dream, Harry let the words fumble out of his mouth, "Why are you up?"

"Why not?" He said still staring at the wall.

Harry ran a hand through his early-morning hair. "Can't beat that logic…" he mumbled. He invited himself to sit across from him, "Why do you drink coffee instead of tea?"

Snape sighed, "Because you drink tea at the end of a bad day, and you drink coffee at the beginning of it."

Harry grabbed himself an apple from a bowl at the center of the table, "How do you know today's going to be a bad day?"

"Why do you ask so many damn questions?"

"Why not?" Harry grinned as he took a large bite from the apple.

"…Shut up," he said finally, not knowing what to say to that logic. He took a pack of cigarettes and elegantly lit one magically in the air. The kitchen was once again violated with its stench. Silver ribbons of smoke wrapped themselves around his face. "I've been thinking," he said. Assuming that he would continue, Harry sat in silence. But he didn't.

"Thinking what?"

"That's why I'm up."

"You were just thinking?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"All night?"

Snape took a long drag. When he puffed it out of his mouth and nose, he was reminded of a long black dragon. He didn't answer the question, but he did pronounce harshly, "About why I hate you so much."

Harry snorted even though Snape's face looked like a mean statue, "Did you figure it out?"

"No," he said glumly, "but I will… just have faith."

"Oh, I do. I'm sure you can come up with a plausible reason to hate me. But I'm almost complimented that you've been thinking about it all night, and haven't found the answer yet."

"I haven't just been thinking about _you_, you twit!"

"Oh," Harry sighed, "there goes my self-esteem… once again…"

A small smile crept up on Snape's face, and he hummed, almost inaudibly, "Poof."

"Excuse me! I am not a poof! You're the poof!"

"Is that so?"

"I can't believe my teacher just called me a poof! I'm suing you!"

"For what?"

"Sexual Harassment!"

At that Snape actually laughed. A disdainful, vicious, harsh laugh… but a laugh nonetheless… Harry grinned too, unconsciously. Snape's eyes rolled as sighed a chuckle, "You would too. And why, may I ask, is the queen of the house awake at this hour?"

He bit his lip, "a bad dream…"

"Another one?"

"Yeah… it was _weird_… this raven girl was singing… and… like… it was weird…."

"Raven girl?"

"Yeah, she kaaaad," Harry laughed.

"That's funny."

"I know."

Snape shook his greasy head, "No, it's strange, I know a girl named Raven. She's coming to visit the headquarters…"

"Why?"

"Never you mind."

"Tell me!"

"No."

"_Tell me!"_

"Be quiet."

"TELL me, dammit!"

"FINE!" Snape yelled, "If you promise you'll leave me alone!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Raven Helgate is the leader of a muggle alliance. All of the muggles in Europe who know about wizards are a part of the Helgate community, you see? Thousands of people are in it, a grand army. She hates the ministry of magic, but she could help us. Dumbledore wants her assistance. It is a major happening in the history of wizard-kind. Now leave me alone."

"No, wait, explain it without talking so fast…"

He rolled his eyes, "Once again, in stupid language, RAVEN Helgate. Friend of me. She be coming to Headquarters. Dumbledore want to talk to her. Leader of muggles who know wizards exists. She smart. She can help stop bad kill-kill man. YOU dream of raven girl. Coinkiedink."

"Ok, ok, jeesh… Me not retarded."

"Got it?"

"Yes."

"Get out of the kitchen."

"But I don't think my dream has anything to do with this person… I mean… she Kaaaad."

"Leave me alone," Snape almost whimpered.

"You were in the dream too…"

"I don't care."

"You told me to eat Voldemort."

Remus came down from his bedroom, curious of the noise, and said, "What're you too doing up?"


	9. Dumbledore's Concerns

A/N: I'm sooooo excited! Star Wars! Harry Potter! Graduation! No more AP exams!

Sad to say, I'm not going to continue this after the next book comes out. My image of the next book will be totally altered, as will many fans'. So to continue fanfictioning after I read the next book for me would just be silly. Fanart will take the upper hand for a few months, and I'll start writing another story. If I hurt anyone's feelings by doing this (which I'm almost a hundred percent sure that I won't) I will give you hug and write you your own chapter.

**Chapter Nine: Dumbledore's Concerns**

Perhaps it was coincidence that Harry was always being watched at Grimmauld place as much as he was at the Dursley's. Questioning gazes and looks of disdain were fastened to his face, yet at the same time it was obvious that he had not spoken in days. Remus was concerned; little did he know that this was really how Harry was by nature. "I think he's depressed," he explained one night to Dumbledore, when he thought Harry wasn't listening, "He stays locked in his room all day, trying to sleep, and at night he just roams the halls."

"Do you think he should see a psychologist?"

"Maybe he's just sad about Sirius… but I really don't know what I should do. He doesn't speak at all. He just stares at the wall… thinking… I'm scared for him…"

Harry eaves dropped from the hall, his mind distorting what they said, there voices echoing in his brain. His vision was fuzzy, even though his glasses were sparkling clean. The coldness was closing in, his arms shivered. He clutched the railing for support, bent over it like he was going to vomit. A gentle hand grabbed his shoulder. Snape's voice whispered somewhere behind him, "Are you alright?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

He wheeled Harry around, practically carrying him to his bed. "I think I might have influenza," Harry whimpered, as he lay in his bed.

"You don't have a fever," Severus concurred, after testing the temperature of his forehead. "You're just tired. When was the last time you've slept?"

"A few hours, yesterday…"

"Your body's exhausted. How long did you plan on not sleeping, Potter?"

"I don't… I _can't_ sleep, I've tried to but…" His eyelids pressed together in pain. Snape didn't understand, his chest constricted and he breathed heavily, "When I sleep, I only have nightmares and I wake up and hour later."

"How about I give you a potion?"

A whimper from underneath the covers told him to do so. He retreated down the stairs in servitude to fetch the sleeping draught. With a nimble foot he stumbled across the conversation of the werewolf and Dumbledore. "Perhaps its chronic depression," Remus insisted in a whisper.

"Headmaster," Snape's deep voice interfered. He bowed his head in apology, and began an formal report, "I do not believe Potter is depressed. Even a few days ago he was happy as a clam, bothering me about why I drink coffee instead of tea. He is just quiet by nature, and I don't believe that is unusual. However, I must register my concern for the boy. He has not been able to sleep for some time; this has caused him physical pain. I think he has been having nightmares that wake him in the middle of the night, and he cannot go back to sleep. This may be symptoms of insomnia, but I have noticed that these nightmares occur at the same time either the Dark Lord, or Kai have been conducting raids. I request permission to administer a sleeping draught for the boy."

"Permission granted, for the time being," Dumbledore nodded, though Remus looked mutinous. "Just give him a light dosage, Severus."

"Thank you, sir." He swept from the room.

"Who is Kai?" Remus asked.

"It's just another name for the prince of Kai, Abram Katsuo Helgate. He has gained much interest in the dark arts for the past few years…"

"Is Kai a place?" Dumbledore chuckled to himself, leaving the blushing werewolf to question, "I'm sorry, I just assumed it was a place since you said he was the prince of Kai… what is Kai exactly? Is it a rock, for heaven's sake?"

"I don't laugh at you, Remus, I laugh because I forget that it is one of the most well kept secret that the Ministry of Magic has left… Kai is not a place. But unless this information is endangering your life or sanity I cannot tell you what Kai is or who is its master. To do so would be treason." He fell into a frown, "All I can tell you is that Kai himself is a fifteen year old twin, and that he has been causing more trouble that Voldemort for us in the past few years. I do wonder what why Harry dreams at the same time of his raids, though. I'm quite concerned..."

"How can no one at the Order know about him if he's been more trouble than Voldemort?"

"It's a muggle problem that we are not entitled to handle, and that's all I can say."

Meanwhile, Snape was peering over Harry with worry, who had just drunk his sleeping potion and was drifting off silently. After a few silent minutes, the potions master bit his lip and began to walk away, wondering if the potion would help. In the back of his mind he wondered why a most gentle kid would have to go through so much pain. He was almost all the way down the stairs when he heard a cry…

The boy who lived was watching

As the bones were gathered at the altar,

A madman his age smiled as he saw

The pleasant gifts they brought

In honor of Kai, they had been slain because of their resistance.

Shouting erupted from Harry's mouth, though still asleep. The three men entered the room almost instantly. The language he was screaming was unknown to them, and the boy was writhing in his bed, like a burning bird…

He thanked them and was happy,

When the new ones bowed in front of him

Welcome to my palace, he said

Inside of a rotten old church

The red liquid in his cup was not wine. His eyes were mad…

"HARRY! HARRY!" Snape slapped his face until Harry regained consciousness.


End file.
